


Through her eyes

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [48]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bus Kids - Freeform, Bus kids with babies, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fitzsimmons with babies, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Tumblr Prompt, mildly gross content due to baby bowel movements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 07:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Based on the prompt "Fitzsimmons pregnancy / family through Daisy's eyes."





	Through her eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani and @lilsciencequeen for the beta.
> 
> Warning: It doesn't go into graphic detail, but there's stuff about baby bowel movements, so if you're sensitive in this regard, either don't eat while reading this fic or don't read the fic ;)
> 
> Yes, I'm totally dragging [one of my favorite manips](https://the-nerdy-stjarna.tumblr.com/post/167706799639/this-is-what-happens-when-you-chat-with) back out of the closet for this one :)

Daisy rang the doorbell to the picturesque cottage, tucked away in the Scottish countryside like it came straight out of a Bob Ross painting—happy trees, happy bushes, a happy creek flowing happily in the distance. While she waited for someone to open the door, her gaze wandered to the side where the wind gently brushed through the trees by the river. It felt like a guided relaxation exercise come to life, and Daisy couldn’t help but feel like it was just so very deserved for FitzSimmons to live in a place such as this.

She hadn’t seen her best friends since Jemma had given birth—a few video chat sessions aside—and couldn’t wait to spend a few days with the little family at their home rather than the hospital.

The door opened and Daisy’s lips reflexively pulled into a wide smile at the sight of Fitz, carrying his baby son on one arm, his free hand carefully placed on Liam’s back for additional support.

“Hey,” Fitz welcomed her, smiling so that the corners of his eyes crinkled happily.

“Hey,” Daisy replied, taking a step forward and keeping her eyes fixed on Fitz. “There’s my favorite guy in the whole wide world.” She ticked her head to the side, cockily. “—and his dad.”

Fitz raised one eyebrow skeptically over her rather lame attempt of a snide joke. “Well then, why don’t you take him so I can finish making myself a sandwich, before I pass out from low blood sugar.”

Daisy snickered, sliding her bag off her shoulder and waiting for Fitz to take a step back into the hallway so she could enter the cottage and set her luggage down.

Carefully, she took Liam from Fitz, offering her index finger to his excitedly grabbing hands. She scrunched her nose at FitzSimmons’ son. “Hi, little guy. You’ve sure grown since the last time I saw you.”

The baby cooed excitedly, causing his father to chuckle in amusement, reaching forward and softly stroking the back of his son’s head, the subtle fluff of brown curls. “Sure, now you’re all peace and quiet and happy.”

Daisy shrugged. “I have the magic touch.”

Fitz mirrored her shrug, tucking his hands in his pockets and turning on his heels to head towards the kitchen. “Can’t argue with that.”

Daisy followed him, her eyes scanning the kitchen and living room area. The living room was an assortment of soft building blocks, other toys, an activity mat, a travel crib, and two baby bouncers. Aside from the food that Fitz had pulled from the fridge to make his sandwich, the kitchen counter was covered in dirty dishes, and a drying rack primarily consisting of baby bottles and breast pump supplies. She suppressed a grin, noticing how parenthood appeared to have put a dent into Jemma’s ‘A tidy home is a happy home’ rule. Yet, she couldn’t help but think that Jemma was quite happy in this new-found mess.

Daisy took another step towards the counter, where Fitz was spreading a generous serving of butter onto his toast. “So, where are you hiding your wife and child no. 2?”

Fitz lifted his chin towards the hallway, before resting the knife against the edge of his plate, reaching for a package of sliced cheese. “Jemma’s nursing Peggy upstairs.”

Daisy gasped in pretend outrage. “You’re banishing your wife upstairs to breastfeed?”

Fitz rolled his eyes, gently tossing the package of cheese back onto the counter. “The comfy rocker-glider is in the nursery.”

Daisy squinted, carefully prying Liam’s fingers away from the strand of her hair he’d gripped tightly. “Right. I should have known that she could whip them out wherever and you wouldn’t mind, boob-man.”

Fitz looked up, furrowing his brow, the slice of ham in his hand hanging sadly down, as if it longed to be placed on top of the cheese. “What?”

“Nothing.” Daisy’s lips twitched as she tried to keep from laughing. “Jemma and I don’t talk about stuff like that.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes skeptically, putting the ham on his sandwich absentmindedly. “Riiight.”

Daisy gestured at the drying rack with her chin, bouncing her knees to keep the baby happy. “So you’re still doing the boob-bottle combo that Jemma mentioned in her email?”

Fitz glanced in the same direction, nodding in confirmation while he grabbed some tomato slices from a cutting board next to his plate. “Yeah. She’s producing enough milk alright, but this way I can help out. Can’t believe what a trooper she’s been. Breastfeeding, pumping. Breastfeeding, pumping. They went through a growth spurt a few weeks back and it felt like one or both of them was constantly crying for her boobs. Making me feel pretty shoddy about the incompetence of my sex. But now we have enough of a milk stash that I can help and give her a break.”

Daisy’s lips reflexively pulled into a soft smile at the image of her best friends tackling their twins’ demands like they’d tackled everything in their lives—as a team. “You’re a regular knight in baby-spit-covered armor coming to the rescue of your beloved’s boobage.”

Fitz scoffed in amusement, licking the tomato juice off his fingers and reaching for the mustard. “Something like that.”

Daisy exhaled a determined breath. “Alright, I’ll take the XY-chromosome offspring upstairs to see his mommy and twinsie, while you take care of your low blood sugar.”

Fitz put the mustard with the knife stuck in the jar back onto the counter and reached into the bag of bread for a second slice. “Greatly appreciated.”

* * *

Daisy peeked into the nursery, grinning widely as she caught a glimpse of Jemma looking adoringly at her daughter. Peggy gurgled happily back at her mother, while Jemma closed the clip of her nursing bra.

“Hey there, mommy dearest,” Daisy announced herself, stepping into the room.

Jemma looked up, her face lighting up when she saw Daisy. “Well, hello there, auntie Daisy. I didn’t even hear the doorbell.” Her gaze wandered down to her daughter and she pursed her lips, placing her hand on Peggy’s belly and rubbing it gently. “Guess we were so focused on making sure your belly gets full, weren’t we, Peggy?”

“Kinda disappointed I missed the free boob-show,” Daisy joked, walking up to the rocker glider that Jemma was sitting on.

Jemma chuckled, before lifting her shoulders. “Well, if you’d like to take Peggy and wind her, then I’ll see if Liam wants a top-off—It certainly wouldn’t be fair to make you come all the way to Scotland and not give you a look at my exposed breasts.”

Daisy let out a single laugh. “You’re a true friend, Simmons.”

Jemma grinned widely, lifting Peggy a little higher. They maneuvered around each other and successfully swapped babies.

Daisy let Peggy rest against her chest, bouncing gently up and down and patting the baby’s back until the baby let out a loud burp. Meanwhile, Jemma opened the other side of her nursing tank and positioned Liam so he could latch comfortably.

Daisy sat down on the ground, holding Peggy underneath her armpits and letting the little girl bounce on her toes, the baby’s wide-open, excited mouth conjuring a big smile to Daisy’s lips. Daisy looked up, where Jemma seemed concentrated on her son. It amazed her how Jemma’s movements seemed so effortless, like a routine she’d been practicing for years rather than months. But then, it didn’t really come as a surprise that Dr. Dr. Jemma Anne Simmons would excel at parenthood as much as she’d excelled at everything else. Maybe the bags underneath her eyes hinted at the sleep deprivation and exhaustion, but the biochemist still acted with the same joyful optimism and energy that she’d shown when Daisy had first met her. Over the years, Daisy had been worried that her best friend had lost some of this ease and hope, but ever since FitzSimmons had retired and started their family, that ‘old’ Jemma had returned.

“So,” Jemma piped up suddenly, pulling Daisy out of her thoughts. “How is everyone at the—”

She paused when a deep grumble resonated through the room that to Daisy sounded a bit like a fart, but somehow—

Daisy froze, staring at the baby in front of her, realizing that the sound had come from Peggy, who had a strange content grin on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Jemma mumbled, causing Daisy to look up

She noticed her friend’s eyes zeroing in on her daughter’s back, which was turned to the rocker-glider.

“What was that?” Daisy asked wide-eyed, even though she kind of already knew the answer.

“Just hold still,” Jemma said calmly. “And don’t panic.”

Daisy furrowed her brow, somewhat alarmed by Jemma’s serious tone.

“Fitz!” Jemma yelled loudly.

“What?” Fitz’s voice could be heard muffled from downstairs.

Daisy looked towards the hallway, before focusing back on the baby in her arms, whom she now felt she was holding like a bomb that needed diffusing.

“We have a Code Brown, Fitz,” Jemma called just as loudly as before. “I repeat. Code Brown.”

Daisy heard a loud groan from downstairs, followed by the sound of Fitz rushing up the stairs. He came to a halt, breathing heavily, gripping his half-eaten sandwich in one hand.

“Which one?” he asked, his eyes darting from one baby to the other.

Jemma sighed. “Peggy.”

Fitz dropped his shoulders. “Of course.”

“Guys,” Daisy looked back and forth between her two best friends. “Little help here. What do I do?”

“Give Fitz the baby,” Jemma instructed her calmly but sternly, as she shifted in her seat, unlatching Liam, who immediately started to protest loudly. She closed the clip of her nursing tank and got out of the chair. “And you take Liam, while I help my husband. This is definitely a two-person situation that requires experienced professionals rather than a rookie.’

Daisy scoffed in amused protest. Yet, she readily obliged, slowly shifting in her seat to face Fitz, lifting Peggy higher in his direction.

He grimaced, his arms hanging in defeat by his side. “Oh bloody hell. It’s almost up to her neck. How do you do that, Peggy? Can’t you for once let your daddy finish a meal?”

He drew in a deep breath, bringing up his sandwich and taking a big bite, before placing it down on the edge of the changing table, stepping towards Daisy and carefully taking his daughter from her. He held her at arm’s length, maneuvering her to the changing pad.

“Here you go.”

Daisy turned around in surprise at Jemma’s sudden words that barely made it through Liam’s wailing. She got up from the floor and took the screaming boy from his mother, who immediately stepped up to the changing table.

“Alright,” Jemma announced. “How should we proceed?”

Fitz still held Peggy up, her feet barely touching the soft changing mat. He leaned sideways, twisting his daughter slightly to look at her back. Even from a distance, Daisy could see the yellowish-brown stain that ran up the back of Peggy’s onesie.

“It’s all the way up her back,” Fitz observed, before lifting Peggy a little higher, tilting his head far to the side. “—and—”

“—it’s starting to ooze out the legs,” Jemma finished his sentence.

Fitz nodded in agreement. “Yep. I’d say secure the changing mat surface. And then top-to-bottom approach.”

Daisy furrowed her brow, observing FitzSimmons as she stood to the side, bouncing in her knees and gently patting Liam’s back, who was still unhappy that his meal had been so rudely interrupted by his sister’s bowel movements. It was like being transported back in time to watching the two scientists hammer out a plan for a complicated situation (while sirens wailed around them), using jargon that only they were familiar with.

Jemma bobbed her head once. “I agree. Who gets their hands dirty?”

“My turn,” Fitz replied matter-of-factly, letting out a determined sharp breath.

“I’ll get the supplies.” Jemma spun on her heels and headed for the dresser, opening various drawers and pulling out a few rags of sorts and a fresh baby outfit. She headed back to the changing table, briefly waving the rags in Daisy’s direction in passing. “Waterproof,” she explained, seemingly having noticed Daisy’s confused expression.

Fitz lifted Peggy a little higher, allowing Jemma to place two layers of waterproof rags on top of the changing mat.

“The area has been secured,” Jemma said, seriously, causing Daisy to snort quietly in amusement.

“Alright, Monkeygirl, let’s do this,” Fitz remarked, carefully sitting Peggy down on the changing table, who looked back at her daddy with big eyes and a happy smile on her face, that Fitz seemed to reflexively mirror.

“How the hell are you going to get that over her head without getting poop all over her?” Daisy asked, still bouncing her knees, while Liam’s crying slowly got quieter.

Fitz briefly glanced at her, before focusing back on his daughter. “We won’t,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“What?” Daisy wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

Jemma grinned back at her with an almost mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “You’ll see.”

“Oh-kay,” Daisy muttered, looking at Liam as if the baby could explain his parents’ behavior.

“You see—” Fitz said, carefully supporting his daughter with one hand where she sat wobbly on the changing table, while sliding his fingers into the envelope fold neck opening of her onesie, pushing the fabric off the shoulder. “—whoever invented these was a bloody genius.”

Daisy watched in amazement as Fitz pulled out Peggy’s left arm through the neck opening, the fabric designed in such a way that the opening was stretchy and large enough to allow him to move on to the other side and pull Peggy’s right arm out as well. He then proceeded to push the onesie further down, stretching it as far as possible and tucking it inward so that the poop would be trapped on the inside.

“Wipe,” he announced, presenting his palm to Jemma, who was already waiting with a box of baby wipes, handing Fitz one as if they were a medical team performing open-heart surgery.

“That’s why they have that weird neckline? So you can take them off—?” Daisy finally realized, though Jemma finished the sentence for her.

“—top to bottom, yes.”

“Little trick we learned from the nurses before we left the hospital,” Fitz added, though he was focussed on cleaning his daughter’s back. He stepped with his foot to the side, opening the diaper pail and tossing the dirty wipe inside, before once again gesturing at Jemma, palm up. “Another wipe, please.”

Jemma complied, and Fitz continued to clean Peggy. Daisy looked at Liam, who had finally completely calmed down. “Your parents really got this down, don’t they?” she remarked quietly to the baby boy, who looked back at her in mild confusion.

“Alright,” Fitz announced, throwing the second wipe away. “I think it’s safe for you to lift her and move on to Phase 2.”

“Roger that,” Jemma replied with a slight nod of her head. She carefully snaked her fingers between Peggy’s arms and torso, and lifted her daughter off the changing mat.

Fitz grabbed Peggy’s onesie and pulled it off, continuing to roll it inwards to keep the blow-out contained. He placed it on top of the waterproof rags, and then removed Peggy’s diaper with razor-sharp focus, rolling it up and tossing it into the diaper pail.

He squinted in concentration, before reaching past Jemma to grab another wipe from the dispenser that Jemma had set down within his reach.

“Alright, keep her steady,” he said, bending so he could see his daughter’s backside, allowing him to clean more of the mess.

“I thought you were going to do cloth diapers?” Daisy chimed in, strangely fascinated by the entire process.

Jemma looked at her with an almost apologetic expression, holding Peggy so Fitz could clean her. “We were, but we quickly realized that the combination of two demanding infants plus cloth nappies from two demanding infants was a bit much for both our deprived energy levels and our laundry routine, so we decided to switch to regular nappies for the time being. Don’t judge us,” she added pleadingly.

Daisy let out a little laugh. “Simmons, if anyone judges you for that, I’ll kick their ass from here to the moon.”

An appreciative smile flashed across Jemma’s face. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Fitz had been immersed in his cleaning efforts, either deliberately or unconsciously ignoring Daisy’s and Jemma’s conversation. He straightened up, tossing the wipe away and reaching for another one, his eyes meeting his daughter’s in passing. “Do me a favor, and don’t pee this time, Peggy.”

The baby stuck out her tongue, her hands trying to reach for her Daddy, causing both Fitz and Jemma to chuckle briefly.

“What do you say, Fitz—” Jemma asked, looking at her husband. “—ready for the next step?”

“Ooooone second,” Fitz muttered in concentration, while he gave Peggy’s bottom another wiping.

He tossed the wipe away, then folded up the top layer of waterproof rags, wrapping Peggy’s soiled clothes inside of it and placing the little poop package dangerously close to where he had set down his sandwich earlier.

“Alright, put her down,” he announced, gesturing at the second layer of waterproof rags in front of him.

Daisy was reminded of the story of the damn cat liver and Fitz’s sandwich that she’d listened to countless times over the years. It was hard to believe that the same person who’d told that story in varying degrees of outrage and disgust now discarded human excrement right next to his lunch without any hesitation.

Jemma lay Peggy down on the changing mat, her little feet kicking and her hands reaching up, trying to grab her mother’s hair. “Do you think we should give her a bath?” Jemma asked, looking at Fitz over her shoulder.

One corner of Fitz’s mouth pulled up and he scrunched his nose. “Wait until tonight?” he asked, in a tone that implied he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was making a suggestion or asking a question.

Jemma bobbed her head in agreement. “Good idea. We can do both of them then.”

Fitz nodded in confirmation. “Alright, I’ll finish cleaning her up—”

“—while I wash my hands in case some poop got on me while I lifted her,” Jemma added.

“—and then you get her dressed—”

“—while you wash _your_ hands—”

“—and then hopefully finish my bloody sandwich in peace.”

Jemma smiled widely, leaning closer and pecking a kiss to Fitz’s lips, before scrunching her nose in Daisy’s direction. “Be right back.”

Daisy watched in silence as Fitz grabbed more wipes to clean up his daughter, quietly talking to her in the process.

“You little stinker,” he mumbled, yet unable to hide the softness and amusement in his voice. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He picked her up when he seemed pleased with the results of his cleaning process, resting her against his chest and grabbing the second layer of waterproof rags with his free hand, adding it to the dirty pile. Then he carefully placed his daughter back onto the changing mat, just as Jemma came back into the room.

“All ready?” she asked, cheerily.

“Yes,” Fitz confirmed, grabbing the pile of dirty clothes and rags. “I’ll toss these straight into the laundry.”

“Good idea.” Jemma watched Fitz leave, before focusing her attention back on Peggy. “Now, let’s get you dressed, shall we?” She glanced over her shoulder at Daisy. “So sorry for the hectic welcome.”

Daisy chuckled. “No worries. It’s like watching you back in the field.”

Jemma let out a little laugh, finishing up closing her daughter’s diaper and reaching for the fresh outfit. “Sometimes it feels that way.” She brought her face closer to her daughter, making a silly face and grinning widely. “Though these little biohazards are certainly far nicer than anything dangerous we encountered during our time with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“So, how often do you get a Code Brown?” Daisy inquired, taking a step closer, returning to her bouncing efforts as Liam seemed to get more restless again on her arm.

Jemma grimaced slightly. “You don’t want to know.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Though by the end of your visit you might have a pretty good idea of the frequency.”

Daisy pulled the corners of her lips downwards. “Yikes. Joys of parenthood.”

“Oh yes,” Jemma replied, closing the last two snaps on Peggy’s onesie and picking her daughter back up.

“But all in all—?” Daisy asked tentatively, raising her eyebrows.

A wide smile spread across Jemma’s face. “I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”

The corners of Daisy’s lips ticked up reflexively. “Good,” she replied quietly.

“Alright,” Fitz announced himself from the hallway, before turning the corner, reaching straight for his sandwich and taking a mouthful. His eyes wandered between Daisy and Jemma, who looked back at him in amusement as he finished chewing and swallowing.

“So, do we try to have a conversation with another adult for a change?” he asked in Jemma’s direction. “Or do we show Daisy where the milk stash is, hand her both babies and wish her good luck while we take a nap?”

“Dude!” Daisy furrowed her brow in protest, while Jemma laughed out loud.

“While the thought of an uninterrupted nap is certainly tempting, and I hope Daisy might be able to help us in that regard at some point during her stay—” Jemma replied, looking sideways at Fitz with a twinkle in her eye, before glancing at Daisy. “—it would presumably be a bit rude to throw our guest into the deep end of caring for twins without any kind of preparatory instructions.”

Fitz took another bite of his sandwich before waving it in Daisy’s direction, speaking with his mouth full. “She saw us tackle a Code Brown. What else does she need?”

Jemma laughed, while Daisy scoffed in amusement. “Jemma’s right, Fitz. I’ll gladly take care of these two little monkeys at some point, so you can catch some Zs, but maybe ease me—”

She paused, wrinkling her forehead when she noticed the strange sensation. “Um, guys?” she asked, looking from Liam to Jemma to Fitz. “Why is my left boob feeling warm all of a sudden.”

Jemma’s lips parted and she glanced full of alarm at her husband, whose mouth distorted. Fitz slumped his shoulders, putting his sandwich back down on the changing table, before taking a step towards Daisy.

“Oh not you too, Liam,” he muttered as he carefully slid his fingers underneath his son’s armpits from behind, taking him from Daisy and twisting him slightly to inspect the situation. “Yep, he peed,” he announced, before looking apologetically at Daisy. “Congratulations, you’ve just been baptized.”

Daisy looked down at herself, noticing the dark stain on her heather-gray shirt, feeling the wetness sticking to her. She grimaced in disgust. “Oh man!” Her eyes wandered up to where Fitz still held Liam facing her way, the baby’s big blue eyes staring at her innocently. “Dude, I called you my favorite guy in the world and this is how you repay me?” she asked, yet unable to stop the amused chuckle that escaped her.

Fitz snickered quietly himself, before clearing his throat. “How about I take care of him?” he asked, lifting Liam a little higher, before looking at Jemma. “And you and Peggy show our guest to her room, so she can change.” Focusing on Daisy, he added, “I hope you brought plenty of clothes, or you’ll have to start ransacking Jemma’s closet pretty soon.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jemma announced, taking a step towards the hallway and bumping Daisy gently with her elbow in passing. “Do you regret your visit already?’ she asked, teasingly.

Daisy looked back at the pee stain on her shirt, before her eyes wandered from Fitz placing Liam on the changing table with an expression of unconditional love, to Jemma carrying Peggy, a wide smile plastered to her face.

“Not one bit, Simmons,” she answered her friend’s question with utmost sincerity.


End file.
